Dreams of Speculation
by frk-werewolf
Summary: Harry and Ron, Victorian style. [warnings: slash HarryRon] written for the harryandron fuhqfest.


Title: Dreams of Speculation

Author: frkwerewolf

Fandom: Harry Potter

Pairing: Harry/Ron

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 9,169

Summary: Harry and Ron, Victorian style.

Warning: AU, sappy romance, OOCness - as it is an AU.

Notes: For harry-and-ron Challenge #5 on livejournal. I chose the premise: An AU fic of Harry and Ron in a different time period.

Sub-Note: This turned out super-long as compared to what I had planned. I thought maybe 4,000 words or so, and now look at this thing. Craziness.

* * *

It was a dream, he knew this. He remembered this dream, long ago. Where and when, he could not say. It was so familiar, he must of dreamed it. How else could he explain the reason the body pressed against his own felt so familiar?

A hand trailed down his chest, sliding gently until it rested at his hip. A sigh escaped his companion. Slowly, he opened his eyes. The room was dark, so dark the only thing he could see was the slight glint of red hair and pale skin. He shivered and the person held him closer. Warmth encased him and he felt himself slipping, only to be aroused by a soft whisper in his ear. "The night is almost gone."

"Indeed it is." He replied, reopening his eyes. The man laying next to him smiled. "Must you leave?"

"It wouldn't be a good idea, if anyone saw us." The redhead replied, his lower class accent sounding thick in his ear.

"Let the maids talk, I do not care." He told the redhead. The redhead smiled once more, then kissed him softly on the forehead.

"It is time to wake up."

He blinked, and when his eyelids raised a bright light filled his vision. Groaning, he rolled over in bed, attempting to bury his head in his pillow. A voice with an Irish lilt spoke nervously from the windows. "''Tis time to get up, sir. Yer father insists."

"Father insists everything, even when requesting tea." He grounded out, sitting up in the large bed. "So, what does he want this fine morning?"

"He wishes to discuss yer refusal to marry." The servant explained.

"Sounds familiar."

"Master Harry, I do not wish to sound rude..." The servant started.

"No, no." Harry waved his hand as he slipped out of bed. "Be as rude as you like, Liam. I can not begin to even care."

"I was just goin' to warn ye, sir, that yer father is very angry." Liam walked over to the wardrobe and began pulling out clothes. "I'd step lightly if I were ye, Master Harry."

"I do not think it is possible to avoid conflict with my father." Harry said softly, as he dressed. Once his clothing was in place, he made his way out of the door. The large estate felt terribly empty, even with Liam trailing behind him. "Is he in the study?"

"Yes, sir." Liam replied. Harry sighed dramatically, brushed back his unruly black hair, adjusted his wire-framed glasses, and stopped in front of two large oak doors. Liam hurried forward, opening them gracefully and stepping back to allow Harry entrance.

The study was large, with oak bookshelves and matching furniture. The red curtains were pulled back to allow the sunlight to drift in. Stepping inside, Harry gathered his courage and cleared his throat. At the desk, a man with similar hair looked up. "Good morning, Harry."

"Good morning, Father." Harry responded.

"Liam, you may leave."

"Yes, Master James." Liam bowed, then left with the soft shutting of the doors. There was silence for a moment. Harry shifted from foot to foot nervously awaiting his father's words. James crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair. He looked at his son carefully.

"You refuse to marry the Granger girl." James said. Harry nodded in response. "Tell me, son, why do you insist on continuing this? Every proper girl I have found for you has been shot down. Why?"

"It is hard to say, Father." Harry replied softly.

"Hard? Hard!" James fumed, standing up and sweeping around the table. "It is not that hard to find a wife, I assure you! Just bloody well pick one already!"

"But, Father-"

"Oh, yes. I know." James narrowed his eyes and took on a disgusted expression. "You want to be in love. Love! Your mother needs to stop reading those silly fairytales to you."

"She hasn't read any of those to me since I was six, sir." Harry told him calmly. He was used to his father's outbursts by now. For some reason, as he got older, he found them more and more entertaining. As long as he never angered his father to the point of violence, that is.

He watched as his father walked over to the lone mirror, his hands folded behind his back. James Potter was what Harry had long ago started calling the key of society. He was what every member of their class strived to be: rich, handsome, owner of a large estate, and keeper of a beautiful wife. He was good at everything he did, except finding his son a suitable place in their world. Harry fought back a sigh. It wasn't that he didn't try to fit in, it was more that he just didn't find himself at everyone else's level.

Whether that level was above or below the rest, he couldn't say. Nor did he care. And that was truly the problem, he didn't care. He didn't care if they lost all their money and he had to live in the stocks with the horses. Their social class was, as far as Harry was concerned, boring. There was nothing for it. All the men did was sit around discussing politics, while the women stood and looked pretty.

"Harry." James said, pulling Harry away from his thoughts.

"Yes, father?" Harry asked.

"Tonight is the Finnigan party." James informed him. "They have a daughter-"

"Father." Harry interrupted, giving James an annoyed look. James' eyes narrowed.

"They have a daughter." James repeated. "I thought this would be a good time to introduce you both."

"B-but, Father..." Harry paused, trying to find a way out of it. "They are... Irish!"

"Yes, I know. It is a pity." James sighed. "But you've shot down everyone else! How am I suppose to marry you to a worthy girl if you don't even give them a chance?"

Harry felt like suggesting he choose a worthy boy, but didn't think that idea would run smoothly. Instead, Harry held himself stiffly as his father continued a long tirade on the importance of marriage. The conversation, or lecture session as Harry called it, lasted another half hour.

Once his father had satisfied his lust of dominance, Harry quickly made his way outside and away from the typical bustle of the manor's staff. Nodding to those he passed, Harry slipped into the stalls. Potter Manor was home to nearly twenty horses, all top of their class. Each was used for a specific purpose. The majority were carriage horses. Two belonged to Harry's father, one to his mother. And the last horse was Harry's.

Harry could name at the top of his head those that he was bother to call friends. He would like to say that his personal servant, Liam, was a friend. But he knew that it was hardly true. He learned long ago that you can not call someone that you order around like a dog a friend. So, that left Harry with only one named friend: his horse.

Ignoring the animal caretakers, Harry walked to the last stall. The soft clicks of a horse's feet, followed by a neigh, and a black head peered out to the walkway. Harry smiled, moving forward to stroke the horse's head. The horse nudged his shoulder in return. Ignoring the nearest servant's request to help, Harry opened the gate and prepared the horse for riding.

The open country just outside of London was normally a wonderful experience to see. Harry had often watched his father's visitors gaze out into the area with awe. He once had the same reaction to it. Now, if he was honest with himself, the open land was almost like a prison. A prison with no gates, no fences, and no guards. And yet you couldn't leave. Often, Harry felt as though he was stuck there, with no chance of escape.

Except during these quiet moments. As long as he left through the back gate, no one seemed to notice his absence. And if they did it was usually summed up as one of his outings. This outing, however, was going to be much longer than usual.

Bypassing his usual track, Harry made immediately for the road that lead into London. It always amazed him, when he took the time to visit the city, how it seemed to suddenly envelop you. One moment you were on a long road, empty land around you. Then the buildings and stone roads seemed to just appear out of nowhere. Harry knew it was silly, but he always looked at it as a type of magic.

In the distance he could see large buildings of banks, stores, apartments, and even mansions. The thought immediately took a turn to the conversation with his father from that morning. Taking a deep breath, Harry maneuvered the horse around a large buggy and made his way to the nearest pub.

After finally finding a place to leave his horse, Harry entered the seediest establishment he had ever laid eyes on. The noise inside seemed to explode around him. Music was playing from one corner and at the back was a group of ten or so men, laughing and drinking away. Harry avoided looking at them and made his way to the bar, where he was greeted by a scantly clad woman with a big grin. Harry ordered a drink and then sat back on a stool to observe the room's occupants.

"Haven't seen you here before." The woman commented, using a rag to clean the counter top.

"Uh, no. I've never been here before." Harry replied, a bit uneasy. The barmaid's eyebrows raised. With a small smile on her lips she slinked off down the bar to another costumer. Shifting in his seat, he turned toward the group of men in the back. A few drunken members moved, and he was able to see an arm wrestling match.

The fact that he was fascinated by the event was proof enough that Harry was a rich brat. Taking a deep gulp of his drink, and fighting back a need to choke, Harry watched as the arms fought for control on top of the table. Then, with a loud slap, one arm was victorious. The group of men broke off into half-groans and half-cheers. Harry took another gulp of his drink.

And nearly spit it out. The winner had stood, receiving a series of claps on the back. He was tall, with cheap and slightly dirty clothing. He slipped through the crowd, heading in the bar's direction. His red hair was long, almost shoulder length, and pulled back at the base of his neck. Freckles were evenly distributed across his face, neck, and everywhere else Harry could see skin. Harry downed the rest of his drink, trying not to look like he was actually staring.

The man was familiar, and that's what unnerved Harry. His dream from that night came roaring back to him. Red hair and friendly eyes. A body pressed against his own. That lower class accent.

Harry watched the redhead out of the corner of his eye as he walked up to the bar a foot away from him. The barmaid immediately brought him a drink. The man continued to grin, an expression of actual happiness that Harry was not used to. Harry stared down at his empty glass. He jumped when the barmaid took it away from him, only to replace it was another.

"Thank you, Madame." Harry said. The woman developed that amused expression once more.

"You're quite welcome." She replied.

"So," The redhead said loudly, turning toward Harry as his grin changed into a smirk. "What's a high class ponce like you doing in a place like this?"

"Pardon?" Harry asked, slightly stunned.

"Felt like escaping the horrors of a high life?" He asked, raising one perfect red eyebrow.

"I do believe that is none of your business." Harry told him, turning back to his drink. He caught a glimpse of the barmaid, who was trying to keep from snickering. Harry narrowed his eyes and downed his drink.

"Better watch yourself, there." The redhead warned. "The ale around here is nothing like that watered down stuff you people drink. Wouldn't want you to get drunk and in trouble now would we?"

"I beg your pardon, sir." Harry turned toward him. "But if I'm not mistaken that sounded like a threat."

"Nah. No threat." The redhead smirked. "Just praying you don't go out on your own, only to get attacked. Thieves around here do enjoy little morsels like yourself."

"Ronald Weasley." The barmaid said in a stiff voice. "Leave the man alone, will you?"

"Sorry. I was just joking around." He replied.

"Yeah. Okay, Ron." She said in an unconvinced voice. Ron shot her a grin before turning back to Harry.

"So, what's your name?" He asked, his previous smirk completely gone.

"Harry Potter."

"Potter?" Ron asked, his jaw dropping. "Bloody hell."

Harry cringed at the reaction and stared down at the bar. The Potter name always received that reaction. His father seemed under the impression that it was respect and awe. People were astounded by his name, and therefore adored his existence. Harry always thought that was a stupid way to look at it. It was awe, sure. But it definitely wasn't respect. It was usually a slight twinge of envy, for the money and social position. Yet, in the lower class, Harry often saw expressions of annoyance or amusement.

Harry watched as the barmaid topped off his drink. He refused to look at the redhead, this Ron Weasley. He had never heard of the family, and considering what the man was wearing he knew why. What he didn't understand is why he was following his father's advice in ignoring those of lesser value. Sneaking a glance, Harry couldn't find anything about this man that was of lesser value than himself.

In fact he was quite handsome, though that might be the drink talking.

"So, Mr. Potter." Ron said in a dramatic voice, pausing to slap a passing friend on the back. "What are you doing in here?"

"Why should you care?" Harry countered.

"Just curious, mate." Ron admitted.

"If you must know, I'm trying to unwind before a night of social horror." Harry told him. Ron chuckled. The drink was making it's way through Harry's system and already he felt his tongue loosen. "My father is such an... an.... Huh..."

"He's a what?" Ron asked, looking highly amused as Harry began to slur his words. Harry downed one more drink.

"An arse!" Harry bellowed. "What I wouldn't give to be poor. Every time I turn around my father is trying to set me up with some stuck-up rich girl who is only interested in me for my name and property value."

"Tough luck, mate." Ron sympathized. Harry suddenly leaned against him, resting his head on Ron's shoulder. Ron gulped noticeably by everyone except the drunk Harry Potter.

"Would you like to know a secret, good sir?" Harry asked in a staged whisper.

"Sure."

"I don't even like girls." Harry giggled. "I like males."

"Do you?" Ron asked, his voice squeaking slightly with what he could only identify as nervousness. Harry seemed oblivious to this and scooted closer to him.

"I like you, Mr. Weasley." Harry said softly.

"Please, call me Ron."

"Ron." Harry's lips twitched into a minute smile. "Ron."

"That would be me." Ron replied.

"Ron." Harry sighed. "I think I dreamt of you. You have... You are..." Harry struggled for his words, while Ron rested a hand on the small of his back in order to keep him from falling off his bar stool. "You! You, good sir, have... Such red hair."

"Well, it runs in the family." Ron said.

"I should be returning home." Harry said. He pushed away from Ron and stood up. His legs faltered for a second, before he regained his balance. Ron non the less kept a hand out in case Harry decided to fall over. Harry gripped the bar and stared at the barmaid carefully. "My wonderful lady, I do hope you can forgive my drunken ways."

"Oh, don't worry." She replied, smirking. Harry unsteadily paid his bill, then walked out of the bar on weary looking feet. The barmaid raised her eyebrows at Ron. "What a light weight, eh? You might want to help that one home."

"I s'pose I could." Ron muttered, ignoring the barmaid's wink. He quickly made his way out of the bar and around to the side of the building. In the dank alleyway he found Harry, who was struggling to climb onto his horse. Ron stood behind him a moment, enjoying the view of the rich man cursing at the purebred. "Need any help?"

"Bloody hell!" Harry yelped out, slipping on the ground and falling onto his back. A low groan escaped him. His bright green eyes blinked behind his glasses before focusing on the redhead above him.

"Sorry, mate." Ron said, managing to keep the laughter from his voice.

He carefully pulled Harry to his feet and helped him up onto the horse. After a moment of thought, he climbed up and sat behind him, his arms wrapped around Harry's body to keep him from toppling off and to enable him to grab the reigns.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked, his slur still apparent.

"I'm going to help you home." Ron calmly told him, nudging the horse into motion.

"Bah." Harry said.

"Indeed."

The ride back to Potter Manor was filled with conversation, all of which Ron tried not to laugh at. Despite Harry's mild dose of alcohol, the man had become very lose in the tongue. The next hour was spent listening to the sordid details of the upper class lifestyle, filled with the horrors of dinner parties and pre-designed marriages.

"The thing is, I do want to get married." Harry finally said as the large mansion came into view. His slur was no longer present, but he continued to tilt to the side. "But I want it to be for love and attraction. I'm not attracted to any of those girls."

"Maybe you haven't met the right one?" Ron asked.

"No, that can not be it." Harry muttered. He then leaned back against Ron's chest, sighing deeply. Ron held his breath and peeked at Harry through the corner of his eye. The Potter Heir was smiling faintly, his eyes half-closed in a look that was pure contentment. Ron felt a strange shiver knowing that Harry felt this comfortable against him.

"Do you know who you want?" Ron asked, his voice softer than even he was accustomed to.

"Mmm... I have an idea." Harry grinned wryly, before a slight blush developed across his cheeks. "Forgive me, I was blunt."

"You really are from a different world." Ron chuckled. "I don't mind. Talk dirty. Be naughty. Please."

"Master Harry!" A voice yelled, interrupting their conversation. Ron looked up to see a tall blonde man running up to the horse. The man, who was obviously a servant, stared Ron down before looking at Harry. "Master Harry, we were worried about ye. I have been searching all afternoon..."

"Ah, Liam!" Harry belted out. Instead of trying to jump of the horse like Ron expected, Harry cuddled against him. "What word does father send? For is that not your reason for searching me out?"

"It is, sir." Liam replied, his eyes traveling back up to Ron and staring at him once more. "Yer father wished to discuss the matter of the Finnigan party."

"Finnigan party." Harry growled. "I figured as much."

"He wished to see ye in his study." Liam said.

"Very well." Harry sighed dramatically. "Liam, please escort Ron to the stables and then to my rooms."

"Rooms, sir?" Liam asked, slightly startled.

"Yes, rooms." Harry said defiantly as he slipped off the horse, nearly kicking Ron in the head in the process. "Oh, and if he is hungry go ahead and feed him."

"Very well, sir." Liam said, nodding. Harry patted the servant on the shoulder and stumbled toward the mansion. Both Liam and Ron watched him go, before Liam turned and gave Ron a cold look. "This way, please."

xxx

Ron stared around the large room. When Harry had told Liam to take Ron to his rooms, Ron had assumed he would be seeing a bedroom. Yet, there was no bed in sight. Instead, a couch and two chairs posed as seating while a large fireplace opened before them. Ron didn't want to sit on any of the furniture. While he had a general dislike for the upper class of London, his mother had taught him to be clean. And this place was spotless. Ron felt like he was dirtying it up just by standing there.

"Son of a-" Harry growled as he stomped into he room, the door slamming just behind him. Through the wood Ron could hear the faint yelp of Liam as he ran into the door. Ron fought back a snicker. The entire time Ron had been near the servant they had been glaring at each other. Ron couldn't explain it, but he would easily claim that Liam had started it.

"You okay?" Ron asked from his corner of the room.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Harry muttered, slumping into one of the chairs and staring at an empty point in space.

"So... Uhh... Maybe I ask why you wanted me here?" Ron asked nervously.

"I'm not entirely sure." Harry replied. "I suppose I wanted some company."

"Seems like you got plenty of that in Liam." Ron said, hiding the rude tone that threatened to emerge. He was jealous, plain and simple. The problem was that he could not identify what he was jealous about.

"Liam is just a servant. I've known him since we were little." Harry explained. "His mother was my mother's handmaiden. I suppose he's like a brother to me."

"Ah, that explains it."

"Explains what?" Harry asked.

"Huh? Nothing..."

"Ron, that was not a nothing statement." Harry replied calmly, looking at Ron with an even gaze. Ron wondered when Harry had gotten sober.

"Well, he is very... Protective over you. I thought at first there was something going on-"

"My goodness, how could you say such a thing?" Harry exclaimed in disgust. "He's a close friend, Ron. A servant. That would be like... Having relations with a brother or sister."

"Okay!" Ron defended, raising his hands. "I didn't mean it like that..."

"You are jealous." Harry stated.

"Huh?" Ron blinked.

"You are jealous." Harry repeated.

"I am not!" Ron sputtered. "You're imagining things. I just met you!"

"Don't you believe in love at first sight?" Harry asked in a disturbingly calm voice.

"No." Ron scoffed, though it was half-hearted. He didn't believe in love at first sight, though. His mother and father had proven through their actions that love was something that was built on time and care for one another. He and Harry had only met a few hours ago. There was no way he felt anything... Except maybe lust.

"Ron?" Harry stood and walked over to him. "Would you like to join me tonight?"

"Tonight? What, that party?" Ron asked, dumbfounded.

"Yes. My father will not be joining me, due to some personal affairs." Harry explained. "I suspect that means mother is demanding a restock of her wardrobe. They will be gone most of the evening shopping, leaving me to attend a socialite party all by myself. I see no problem with you joining me."

"You're kidding." Ron said. Harry merely smiled. "Okay, you're not kidding. I've never been to one of those, Harry."

"It's a walk in the park, if you follow my lead." Harry told him.

"Well..." Ron bit his lip, thinking. "I don't have anything to wear."

xxx

"That is Lucius Malfoy and his wife Narcissa." Harry said softly, pointing at one of the many couples in the room. They had arrived at the party twenty minutes ago. Ron was nervous, shuffling around in a starchy outfit that was terribly uncomfortable. He gripped the glass of what he assumed was wine and stood close to Harry, who looked calm as pie.

"He looks lovely." Ron said sarcastically.

"Oh, indeed he is." Harry snickered. "He's a member of the royal family, but he's so far down the bloodline that they have yet to invent a title for him. His wife collects handcuffs."

"Naughty."

"Oh, and there is our host and hostess, Samuel and Bridget Finnigan. They have a son, Seamus, and a daughter my age. I never bothered to learn her name." Harry said. "Here comes Severus Snape. Don't let him scare you."

"Why would he scare me?" Ron asked as a man in pure black began to make his way to their location.

"He's supposedly a doctor, but the only things he takes care of are dead whores and elderly women." Harry replied.

"What?" Ron squeaked. Harry smirked.

"Ah, Harry Potter." Severus greeted, taking Harry's hand roughly and shaking it with vigor. Ron narrowed his eyes. "And who is this fine man?"

"This is a friend of mine, Ron Weasley." Harry introduced.

"Lovely to meet you." Severus said. "Harry, I was just talking with the Lady Avery and we were discussing the most fascinating thing-"

"Oh, dear me." Harry interrupted. "I'm afraid me and Ron have neglected our duties. We must go find the host and hostess and thank them for our invitations."

Ron watched in amusement as Severus glowered. Harry grabbed his arm tightly and jerked him away to the other side of the room. They could no longer see Severus Snape, but Ron could hear his silky voice talking with someone else. Ron found himself in a completely new area of the party. Nearby was Lucius Malfoy and a group of men, cigar smoke drifting towards them as they laughed at some political joke. Harry didn't look at them, nor did he make any move to join them.

"Good evening, Harry." A tall man greeted with amber eyes.

"It is nice to see you again, Remus." Harry smiled widely.

"It's a pity your father couldn't make it. I trust he and your mother are well?" Remus asked as another man joined them. This one was shorter with black hair and a wolfish grin.

"They are just fine." Harry replied.

"Ah, and who is your friend?" Remus asked.

"Remus, I would like you to meet Ron. Ron this is Remus and Sirius." Harry introduced. "They went to school with my father."

"Pleasure to meet you." Ron greeted, trying to sound as proper as possible. Remus smiled in return, but Sirius gave him a funny look. Ron suspected he had noticed the cockney accent.

"Harry, I heard that James was attempting to set you up with the Finnigan girl." Remus commented.

"Yes, I believe that was what I heard last." Harry replied stiffly.

"It is a pity people are unable to chose their loved ones." Remus said softly. "Unless you break with tradition." Remus smiled, shooting a glance at Sirius who smirked widely. "Sometimes taking the less traveled road can be the greatest adventure."

"Why, Remus, if I didn't know any better I'd say you were trying to lead our Harry down the path of the wrong." Sirius commented in a amused voice.

"It's always a possibility." Remus said in a secretive voice.

"I'll be sure to look you up if I need such a favor." Harry chuckled.

"If you'll excuse us, Harry." Sirius said. "I do believe it is time to escape the horror of a Malfoy conversation."

"Good luck." Remus winked. As quickly as they were there, they had disappeared. Ron shared a look with Harry before following the line of vision Sirius had used. It seemed Lucius Malfoy was taking an interest in their presence.

"Good day, Mr. Malfoy?" Harry asked, his voice sounding less relaxed than when he had talked with others.

"The day appears to be looking up." Lucius replied. He didn't look at Harry, instead he kept his focus on Ron who couldn't help but blush under the scrutiny. "Might I enquire your companion's name?"

"This is Ron Weasley." Harry replied. Ron nodded in greeting.

"Weasley." Lucius muttered, before raising an eyebrow. "I don't recall any Weasleys. Where about are you from?"

"He is-" Harry started.

"Cat got your tongue, Mr. Weasley?" Lucius interrupted. Harry's eyes hardened, but Lucius did not seem to notice.

"I reside in London, sir." Ron replied, almost cringing at the sound of his voice. Lucius' lip twitched in response to Ron's lower class accent.

"Inner London, perhaps?" Lucius asked.

"No, sir." Ron said. Inner London, with it's dirty sewage and older homes, was the poorest part of the city. The city had been planning for some time to renovate the area, in order to lower the disease rate the filth inevitably caused. Ron did not know if they were following out the plan or not. "I live in Southern London."

"Southern? Indeed." Lucius nodded. Lucius turned to Harry. "I believe Samuel is looking for you. It appears your father arranged for you to meet his daughter tonight. I would advise you going now, before he loses his patience."

"Is there anyone who doesn't know?" Harry complained softly, before turning to Ron with a small smile. "Will you be alright on your own?"

"I'll be fine, Harry." Ron replied.

"Now, Mr. Weasley," Lucius said slowly once Harry had disappeared through the crowd. "Why don't you tell me why your really here?"

"I was invited." Ron insisted, taking a step back. Lucius smirked before he stepped even closer to the redhead. "Maybe I should join Harry-"

"No, I don't think that would be a good idea." Lucius sneered. "Tell me, what did you have to do in order to get into that expensive suit? Surely you would not be able to afford it on your own."

"And how would you know that?" Ron countered.

"It's obvious, boy." Lucius replied. "Your accent and stance scream lower class. Or perhaps your new money? Hmm... Doubtful."

"I don't think this is any of your business, Mr. Malfoy." Ron said, narrowing his eyes.

"Watch yourself, boy." Lucius warned. "You would do well to learn your place."

"Mr. Malfoy, if you would excuse us." Harry's cold voice interrupted. "I believe it is time for Ron and I to retire for the evening."

"What a pity." Lucius commented, as he watched Harry drag a fuming Ron away.

"What a bastard!" Ron cursed once they had reached the carriage. Ron climbed inside and slumped down in his seat, glaring forward. Harry sat down gently next to him and watched as the redhead began to curse and fume. "That's pillock. Did you hear what he said to me? 'Watch yourself, boy.' I'll show him who he should watch out for. What is it with you upper class people and thinking everyone is below you?"

"I don't do that." Harry defending softly. Ron bit his lip and glanced over at the dark headed man. Harry adverted his eyes and looked out the carriage window.

"Sorry." Ron whispered. "He just pissed me off."

"I can understand that." Harry told him, giving him a half-smile. "Was the party horrible?"

"No... I mean, it was boring." Ron confessed. "Really boring. There were a few nice people. I like that Remus fellow."

"Events such as this are usually are on the dull side." Harry replied.

"Hey, do you need to return home yet?" Ron asked suddenly, twisting in his seat to look directly at Harry.

"No, I do not." Harry said.

"Well, how about we go to a good party, eh?" Ron asked, wiggling his eyebrows. "My brother is having a get together tonight. It's mostly family, but there will be drinking and cards. What do you say?"

"I don't know if I'll get along so well-"

"Come on." Ron begged, pouting slightly. "Please?"

"Yes, alright." Harry said, staring at the protruding lower lip.

xxx

"You have to chug it!" A redhead bellowed in Harry's ear. His was surrounded by redheads, all wearing wide grins and freckles. On the other side of the room, Harry could see Ron talking with his sister, Ginny, while shooting glances at him.

"I do not think-" Harry began.

"Nonsense!" Another, Charlie, laughed. He thrusted the large glass of beer into Harry's hand. "Just open up and let it poor, mate."

"Better watch him," One of the twins grinned.

"Yeah, don't want the baby to choke." The other twin said.

"Must you all act like baboons in front of our guest?" A tall redhead with glasses asked in a snooty voice. Harry searched his mind for a name.

"Ah, come off it, Percy." Charlie shoved him out of the circle surrounding Harry. Percy sniffed the air daintily and joined the Weasley parents, Molly and Arthur.

"Come on, Harry!" The redhead that had first spoken, Bill, said. "Just gulp it down."

Harry stared around at the wickedly grinning faces and tilted his head back. The alcohol burned it's way down his throat as he gulped wave after wave of it. Suddenly he jerked forward, gagging. The group began to laugh, all reaching to thump him on the back. Someone took his glass from him and the horde of Weasleys moved on to their next target. Gasping for breath, Harry leaned against the wall.

"Don't mind them." A man said, with a distinct Scottish accent. He handed Harry a rag and watched as he dabbed at the now liquid stained shirt. "They do that to everyone. I remember when I had to go through it. Be thankful they stopped with one pint, eh?"

"I'll be sure to thank my lucky stars for such a thing." Harry replied. He thrusted his hand out, but winced when the man's strong grip squeezed his hand in greeting. "My name is Harry."

"Oliver." He said, smiling. "You came with Ron?"

"Yes, I did." Harry said.

"Oi, Harry!" Charlie bellowed from across the room. "Let's see your poker skills, mate!"

"A small warning, Fred and George are cheaters and Percy always wins despite their efforts." Oliver informed.

"So, uh, what do you think of Harry?" Ron asked his sister as they watched Harry sit down for a game of poker. Even from across the room he could see the beads of sweat signaling his nervousness.

"Mmm, I think the question is what you think dear brother." Ginny said softly, before grinning and darting off to the kitchen. Ron glared after her, before returning to his Harry gazing. Harry, mid-laugh, looked over and their eyes connected. Ron fought a chuckle as Harry's face started to blush.

xxx

Hands were caressing his shoulder, slowly moving down his arm. Strong arms enveloped him from behind, a strong chest pressed to his back. Harry sighed and tilted his head back, letting it rest on a freckled shoulder. His green eyes looked over, coming into contact with a male's profile.

"We shouldn't be doing this." Ron whispered, but his hold on Harry tightened.

"Why should we worry about others?" Harry asked, twisting in Ron's grip to face him. "They do not matter."

"Don't they?" Ron questioned, his voice low and thick. Harry closed his eyes a moment before meeting Ron's blue gaze.

"They use to, Ron." Harry answered. "But we are wiser than they thought. We do not care. Should we? I don't think so."

"You are so trusting, Harry." Ron said. "You do not think mankind will despise your choice in lover? They might not hate you, true, but they will hate me. For I am beneath you."

"No!" Harry pressed his lips to Ron's in a harsh kiss. Harry's tongue pushed past Ron's willing lips and took over his mouth. Ron moaned softly in response. Gasping for breath, Harry pulled back. "You are not beneath me, Ron. You are not beneath anyone."

"You're a good man, Harry." Ron told him, smiling.

"Am I to be so bold?" Harry asked, tilting his head in thought. "To be bold and tell you the truth?"

"What is this truth?"

"I love you."

"'Tis time to wake up, sir." Harry blinked up at Ron, a frown on his face. Ron grinned. "'Tis morning, sir."

Jerking awake, Harry stared up at his white ceiling for a moment before looking over at Liam, who stood near the open window. Groaning, Harry buried his head under the pillow. He wished he could return to his dream.

"Sir." Liam called out. "Yer father wishes to speak with ye again."

"Bloody wonderful." Harry growled.

"Pardon?" Liam asked, his eyes wide. He had never heard Harry curse unless under a large amount of pressure.

"Leave me be, Liam." Harry ordered, sitting up. "I wish to dress alone this morning."

"Very well, sir." Liam said stiffly. Harry watched him leave the room before stumbling out of bed and rushing to his private bathing room. Finding the nearest container, he promptly vomited.

It was with a pale face and churning stomach that Harry entered his father's study that morning. He could recall the night before, with Ron's family and friends. After the poker game he had been forced into a drinking game, which resulted in him making an arse out of himself. Ron was the one to help him home and drag him into bed, going as far as to even dress him in his nightshirt. Harry was embarrassed to remember that he had made quite a show of trying to tackle Ron into the bed with him, but Ron had been the perfect gentleman which had both surprised Harry and sent a warm feeling to his heart.

Pushing such thoughts away, Harry slipped into his father's study. Clearing his throat, he waited until James looked up before speaking. "You wished to see me, sir?"

"Yes, I did." James' voice was cold and harsh, causing Harry to wonder what he had done. James slowly stood up and walked around his desk, his hands held behind his back and chin raised in a superior stance. "I had a fascinating conversation with two people this morning. Do you know who these people were?"

"No, sir."

"Remus informed me that you had a young man with you at the party last night." James said. "Now, Remus insisted this man was a nice, good-natured young man. Lucius on the other hand..."

"Father, surely you will not take Lucius word." Harry said.

"I have no reason not to believe him." James narrowed his eyes. "Harry, tell me the truth. Did you or did you not have a lower class piece of scum with you at the Finnigan party? Wearing borrowed clothes, no less?"

"Father..." Harry trailed off, staring at the floor. Taking a deep breath, he continued. "Yes, father, I did."

"Harry James Potter!" James yelled. Harry winced, but refused to look up at him. "You disgrace me."

"No!" Harry exclaimed, more in anger than anything.

"No? No?!" James walked forward and grabbed the lapels of Harry's jacket. "You were out last night, longer than the party lasted. Where were you, hmm? Out with your whore?"

"He is not a whore!" Harry exclaimed, pushing himself out of his father's hold. "He's my friend."

"Friend?" James scoffed. "They are not to be made friends, Harry. They are servants. They are below us."

"How dare you?" Harry hissed, his hands folding into fists at his side. "How dare you speak of someone you do not even know!"

"They are all the same, Harry." James informed him, his eyes flashing angrily behind his glasses. "You will do well to learn your place in this world. Take your spot, find yourself a wife, and settle down."

"Find myself a wife?" Harry laughed in a way that was purely maniacal. "I do not want a wife, father! I have no need for such a thing."

"Do you dare tell me that you wish to not carry on the name?" James asked.

"No, father." Harry said, oddly calm. "I do not care."

"You do not care?" James glared. "This man you were with yesterday has polluted your mind."

"He has done no such thing." Harry growled. "You would do well not to speak of him again, father."

"You dare speak against me?" James chuckled and stepped up to his son. "I am your father, Harry. I own you and everything that belongs to you. Perhaps, that includes your little whore?"

Everything after that phrase seemed to happen at an alarming speed. Harry spun around, intending to leave the study. James grabbed his arm, yanking him back. Harry shoved James away, and then pain erupted in his left eye. Stumbling his fell to the floor, a hand pressed to his face, where his father had just hit him. Avoiding his father's angry gaze, he jumped to his feet and ran.

Behind him he could hear his father cursing and yelling, but no words seemed to penetrate Harry's mind. He ran, as fast as possible, to the stalls. Darting out of the servants' way, he finally made it to his horse. Hastily prepping it, he mounted it and turned toward the entrance.

"Master Harry!" A voice called out to him. Harry twisted around to see Liam gasping for breath. "Master Harry, what happened?"

"Speak to my father if you wish to know." Harry replied, his voice angry and the side of his face already turning purple from his father's blow.

"Where are ye going?" Liam asked.

"Away. I do not know if or when I will be back." Harry answered before galloping out of the building and onto the nearest road, leaving Liam to stare after him.

xxx

"Have you seen Ron? Ron Weasley?" Harry asked the barmaid of the pub he had visited the other day. The woman gave him a shocked look, staring at the dark bruise on his face.

"No, sir, I haven't." She replied.

"Do you know where I can find him?" Harry asked. The barmaid shook her head and Harry let out a frustrated growl before leaving the pub in a hurry.

After mounting his horse once more, Harry felt he had no choice but to search the area. Deep down he was screaming at himself with an annoying voice that sounded like his father's, telling him that Ron did not feel the way he did and he wasn't worth throwing away his rich, secure life over. Then, another voice sounding disturbingly like his father's old friend, Sirius, stomped all over that voice and told him to get a move on.

Harry was certain he was going mad. He had only known Ron for a day, no more than that. He didn't think that it was possible to actually love someone that soon, he surely didn't know if that was what he was feeling. The most he had learned about such emotions was through the stories his mother told him as a child.

It seemed that in fairy tales one was able to fall in love the moment they were rescued, the moment they came face to face with their prince charming. No conversation, no interaction: just love. It always confused Harry how that was possible, and now the confusion seemed a little silly. He and Ron, well, it almost was love at first sight. When he had first seen Ron he had fallen into lust, but it wasn't until after they spent all day together that he really started feeling something... Something different.

Grumbling, Harry found himself in one of the many streets of London, avoiding the eye contact of it's many occupants. He knew it was rather hopeless, finding Ron in this city, that is until he saw a flash of red to his left. Craning his neck, he searched for the redhead. Harry couldn't help the grin that appeared on his face when he saw Ron's older brother, Charlie, walking down the street. He quickly maneuvered his horse over to him until he was trotting next to the short and stocky redhead.

"Good afternoon, Charlie." Harry greeted, smiling when Charlie jumped in alarm.

"Why, hello Harry." Charlie grinned widely. "How was your morning? No vomiting, I hope."

"Not much." Harry replied, fighting not to roll his eyes when Charlie snickered. "Do you know where I can find Ron?"

"Ah, I see." Charlie nodded. "Follow me, mate."

Harry did just that, ignoring the amused look on Charlie's face. They made their way into a residential area that looked vaguely familiar. It suddenly struck Harry that this was where he had visited Ron's family the night before.

The crowd had practically diminished by then. He and Charlie were able to walk in the middle of the street without running into anyone, while Harry stared at the cramped homes. They all looked runned down and about to fall apart, but Harry could almost feel a sense of calm vibrating from them. They were different than Potter Manor, which was cold and too large for their small family.

The house they stopped in front of was as run down as the others, but seemed to have a more homey feel. Harry could remember it slightly, but his drunken mind from the night before had erased most of what had happened. Charlie waited for him to dismount his horse, before connecting it's reigns to a single tree that stood in the sidewalk, surrounded by a small fence.

Harry followed Charlie up the walk and hovered behind him as he pulled out his key and unlocked the door. He slipped inside behind him, the door shutting and leaving them in a hall with only a few candles as light. Charlie was already moving on ahead and Harry ran to catch up with him, staring around the house as though he had never been there before.

Most of the furniture was shabby and ill-worn, but still remained comfortable looking. Candles and one oil-lamp was what made up the lighting, along with opened windows. They entered a sitting room, where in the corner stood a handsome piano. Sitting on it's bench was one of Ron's brothers, Percy if his mind served right, playing a beautiful piece.

"You can sit down if you want." Charlie offered. "I'll go get Ron. He's probably in the kitchen with mum."

Harry sat down on a chair, shifting nervously. The uneasy feeling in his gut was screaming at him and he wandered briefly why he had even came here. Then his face tingled in a minor pain and he recalled the fist his father had used on him. A sudden sense of anger rose in him, recalling the things he father had said about Ron and himself. Calling Ron a whore of all things. Gritting his teeth, Harry stared at the floor. His father had pushed him around and scheduled his life it fit his own needs for too long. Harry would not take it any longer.

"Harry?" Ron voice broke through Harry's angered voice. Looking up, he couldn't help the smile that lit his face. Ron stood in the doorway, a towel wrapped around his waist and his sleeves rolled up. "Harry, what happened?"

"Huh?" Harry asked, yelping in shock when Ron ran over to him and pulled him into a hug. Ron then held him at arm's length, studying his bruised eye. "Oh, umm... Father and I had an argument."

"He hit you?" Ron asked, a look of pure venom passing across his face before softening. Ron raised his hand and stroked Harry's cheek slightly.

"Ron, you're hands are wet." Harry informed him.

"Oh, sorry." Ron grinned sheepishly. "It was my turn to do the dishes."

"I'm sorry to intrude on you like this." Harry said softly.

"It's no big deal." Ron smiled. "Come on, let's get you something for that eye, eh? Oh, and Percy? You can stop staring anytime soon."

"I haven't the faintest idea as to what you mean." Percy's voice informed them. Ron chuckled, before taking Harry's hand and leading him into a quaint little kitchen where Ron's mother was seated.

"Oh, dear, what happened? Are you all right?" Molly asked, darting forward. She quickly pulled Harry to the table and set about getting him an ice pack for his eye. Harry looked slightly uncomfortable as she mothered him, but soon became at ease.

"I'm all right, Mrs. Weasley." Harry told her. "There was an accident..."

"Accident?" Ron growled, his anger once against coming to the fore and this time staying. "His father bloody well hit him, mum!"

"Ron, you do not underst-" Harry started.

"Don't understand?" Ron scoffed. "Harry, he hit you! That's enough for me to know."

"Ron, I enraged him. I said things that I shouldn't of." Harry defended, wincing as Molly pressed a towel filled with ice against his face. "If I had just kept my mouth shut..."

"That's no excuse." Ron replied.

"Yes, well..." Harry sighed. "He made me angry and... He... I do not know how it happened exactly, but we just started fighting and then you were brought up." Harry looked away from Ron and stared at the wooden table. "My father is always trying to control me and I was determined to get away this time. He wouldn't take something away from me that I wanted, that I needed. Not this time."

"Umm, are you talking about me?" Ron asked in a slightly strangled voice. Harry looked up to suddenly find Ron kneeling in front of him. Molly was nowhere to be seen.

"Yes." Harry whispered.

"Why would you do that?" Ron asked, frowning in confusion. "Why would you go against your father, far enough for him to actually hit you, for me?"

"I had a dream." Harry replied automatically.

"A dream?"

"Umm, yeah." Harry took a deep breath. "Actually, I had the dream before I had ever met you. When I saw you at the pub I recognized you immediately. I had another dream this morning. It got me thinking, speculating if you will."

"I'm not certain I understand." Ron said.

"Neither am I." Harry smiled. He blushed slightly when Ron took hold of his free hand. "Have you ever read Cinderella?"

"The story about those sisters cutting off their feet?" Ron asked.

"No!" Harry laughed. "I mean, yeah, but that's not the part I'm thinking of."

"Oh?" Ron asked, smirking slightly. Harry sent him a small glare.

"What I meant was the fact that Cinderella meets this handsome prince at a festival, right?" Harry continued. "Well, they only see each other for a few hours over the span of three days. Yet, when the prince goes after her to try on the shoe they are in love."

"I'm not sure if I'm really following this." Ron admitted.

"It just gets me thinking that maybe it's possible... To fall in love with someone that quickly." Harry whispered.

"Oh." Ron muttered, looking down at their locked hands. "Do you?"

"The dream I had last night made me see it." Harry said. "It made me theorize this whole affair. It was worth it, you know. Ignoring my fathers wishes, that is. He... He had heard about you through Lucius Malfoy and he called you my whore." Ron looked up to find silent tears trickling down Harry's cheeks. "I've never heard my father be so... horrible. I couldn't take it, knowing it was you that he was saying these things about. He has never met you. He has no right!"

"Hey, hey." Ron said, rubbing Harry's arm comfortingly. "It's alright."

"No, it's not." Harry whispered. "It's not alright, Ron. I know that if I go back... I won't be welcomed, I know I won't."

"How can you be so sure?" Ron asked gently.

"It's just the way he is... That and I refuse to go to him." Harry gave a sheepish smile. "I'm as stubborn as he is, and I can't stand the idea of knowing he won't accept me the way I am. If he wishes for me to be a part of his family, he will come to me."

"Are you certain?" Ron asked.

"Yes, I am." Harry replied. "Ron, I'm sorry for placing all of this on you. It was very rude of me."

"No." Ron smiled. "No, it wasn't. I was hoping I'd get to see you again. Though, I would of preferred if it was without the black eye and heartbreak."

"No heartbreak... That is... If you will have me?" Harry looked away as he said it, his face flushing.

"Do you really feel that way about me?" Ron asked. "I'm not worth much, Harry. I would never fit in with your world. I'm often told I'm beneath you."

"Don't you ever say that." Harry hissed, shocking Ron to silence. "You're equal to me. If you can not fit in my world, I will join yours. Or perhaps we can meet in between? Ron... I can't explain it at all, but it's like I was meant to find you."

"You're a hopeless romantic, Harry Potter." Ron told him, smiling.

"I blame my mother." Harry confessed.

"You are peculiar." Ron chuckled. "I must say that I just might be falling in love with you, Harry."

"I'm glad to here it." Harry gave him a coy smile. "I think I'm already there."

"I want to kiss you." Ron told him in a very soft voice.

"I can live with that." Was Harry's reply right before a pair of lips met his own. If Harry was honest with himself, he would admit to the tingles that immediately shot up his spine. Ron's lips ghosted over his, before pressing harder and parting slightly. Harry parted his in kind, only to have Ron's tongue lightly graze his lower lip.

Harry gasped and raised a hand to cup Ron's face. Slowly, he met Ron's tongue with his own. Ron made a small noise of contentment as their kiss deepened. Ron's arms came around his waist, sliding him forward in his chair to meet Ron's body. Harry's tongue traced patterns in Ron's mouth, before drawing Ron's tongue into his and sucking gently, coaxing a moan from the redhead. Chuckling, Harry pulled back to look at him.

"What are you planning on doing?" Ron asked. "If you can not go back to your home, that is."

"I should be able to stay over at Remus and Sirius' home for a while, until I'm able to get out on my own." Harry answered, staring at their linked hands.

"Will they mind?"

"I doubt it." Harry replied, smiling. "I have a feeling they suspected something from the start. Remus is dreadfully perceptive like that."

"Are you going to be okay with this?" Ron asked, meeting Harry's brilliant green eyes. "Seems to me like you're changing your whole life around. Whole new world, eh?"

"Ron, I..." Harry trailed off and leaned forward to give Ron another kiss. When they parted Harry broke into a grin. "I can honestly say that that I'm ready for this."


End file.
